Hello, dear reader(s) and friend(s)! How are you? I'm quite fine. How is your summer in ___? Mine is going very well, albeit very busy! But since I make $50 or more a night serving, I'm banking quite a bit. Even if I spend much of it on overpriced but delicious shirts from Penguin.
The Naples Daily News blog, The Pop Culture Percolator, is also going well for a fledgling production. I know for a fact that i have 3 readers a week, but who knows how many could be lurking? We could be talking in the 20s here, people!
So here's what I've read so far this summer: Choke by Chuck Palahniukjkjkfjldjak Killing Yourself to Live and IV by Chuck Klosterman (the superior of the two Chucks) Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi Snow Angels by Stewart O'Nan
At bat right now is Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury. But after that, I have nothing save the latest issues of Esquire and GQ which, for all intents and purposes, are kind of lacking compared to previous issues.
SO!
Throw me some reading suggestions, please! I've been in a non-fiction/essay/memoir mood lately. Is David Sedaris any good? I will field any and all suggestions. Thank you kindly.
Final thought: Gawker is a hilarious Manhattan gossip site and completes my life. It's more professional than Perez and TMZ and the like and has the amazing Gawker Stalker, in which people can email celeb sightings around NYC. It's fantastic in a totally superficial way.
I shall leave you with a Curb Your Enthusiasm clip:
Currently
listening
:
Kid A
By
Radiohead
Release date: 2000-10-03
I couldn't think of a better name on relatively short notice, so I went with the old alliteration standby. Sorry about that. Anyway. There isn't anything on there yet that hasn't been in this blog (except a cleaner and more generalized review of Lost). But the webmaster surprised me today by noting that they would be advertising the blog on the main page.
It was a surprise for a number of reasons, actually:
Yowza. I mean, outside of the glaring typo, there is also the lollipop (can we say Candy Boy?) and the not my mouth licking it, and the proclamation that I "suffer" through things. I get what they're going for, and it is my plan to skewer an episode of The Hills or some other shitty summer program in the near future, but all of my current posts are fun and positive. Talk about pressure to put on the snark!!
But absolutely, check it out. I will regret it so you don't have too!
Currently
listening
:
Waves & the Both of Us
By
Charlotte Sometimes
Release date: 2008-05-06
LOST fucking blew me away last night. Season 4 was probably the best turn-around season for a show, ever. As great as the final 6 or so episodes of season 3 were, the rest of the season was a huge drag. It was incredible to watch the producers come back to the show with an amazing new plot device (flash forwards) and use them expertly, answering questions but ultimately leaving more questions, which is what all great serialized dramas should do.
Michael Emerson is, without a doubt, the star of the show. Up until season four I was all about Terry O'Quinn's Locke. And I still am, but since he won the Emmy last year, it is absolutely Emerson's year. Ben Linus ran the emotional gauntlet this year, continuing his creepy and conspiratory self, showing remorse, showing grief, heartbreak, irony, and viciousness.
The frozen donkey wheel. Well. Kinda weird at first, but it's so intriguing to see not only a frozen underground compound on a tropical island, but also that civilizations have probably been there long before Dharma, which would explain its archaic structure and the glyphs on the columns. So Ben moves the wheel and ends up in Tunisia. Remember Charlotte finding polar bear remains in the desert? YES. Connections, people. Connections. I guess it was a frozen polar bear wheel.
The person who moves the island can never come back. Can someone say Charles Widmore? I always loved seeing Caleb Nichol on Lost, but the fact that he may have moved the island decades ago is just a delicious theory to think about. He sends others to find it. What did he leave behind? Are all who leave the island destined to return in some way, shape, or form? Why is Sun teaming up with him?
And so, if the island "moves" in the fourth dimension, we are to assume they have shifted to the same October 2005 in which Ben arrived. But what about previous moves? Is that how the Black Rock ship ended up so far inland? The island suddenly appeared there and engulfed the ship? My mind is spinning.
Desmond and Penny. Tearjerking reunion! I didn't think it would happen this early, but I'm so glad it did. I thought it would be a great exit for Desmond, no matter how much I love his character, because he finally fulfilled his ultimate goal. But then I realized that Ben will still be coming after Penny, so he may not be out yet.
Jin's death was...heartbreaking, yes, especially with Sun's reaction, but a little sudden, right? Here's hoping he dove off the boat in time and is still out there. See what getting a DUI in Hawaii gets you?
I also hope that my favorite new character, Faraday, was sucked into the island when it moved. I don't want him to die, even though I dreaded it considering his boat was full of extras.
And, of course, the big Locke reveal. Not even joking, when the camera was slooooooowly panning up I actually stood out of my chair thinking I would be able to see who it was before they showed it. Wow. I actually thought Jeremy Bentham was Ben for most of the time, even when he appeared behind Jack--figured it was a hallucination/Jacob. No sir. Is Locke not the chosen one? Was his purpose on the island over? What about the "bad times" on the island?
Minor favorite moments: Hugo's "Checkmate, Mr. Eko.", Miles' really snarky "Is something wrong with your neck?" and "Hmm..what do I mean?", the amazingly shot and choreographed Sayid/Keamy fight, the hilarity of Sawyer coming out of the water shirtless like he was in a cologne ad, and Michael redeeming himself followed by Jacob's "You can go now, Michael."
It's going to be a long 8 months.
Give Lost, or at least Michael Emerson, the fucking Emmy right now.
Currently
listening
:
Young Team
By
Mogwai
Release date: 2008-05-27
This blog is brought to you by two new albums that blew me away, the Old 97s' Blame It On Gravity and Death Cab's Narrow Stairs. The former is a perfect summer album with the infectious single "Dance With Me," while the latter is another solid album perfect for contemplation and/or night driving.
Anyway.
My aforementioned "meltdowns" were rewarded with a semester 3.75, two B+'s (even in Econ!), an A-, and two A's. Satisfying. Now I have to prepare to get none of the classes I want and have meltdowns of other kinds at UF.
My job search is frustrating, since I thought I had a good interview for a desk position at the YMCA (basically doing what I did as a supervisor at school all year), but I haven't received a call back a week later. Maybe the broseph who interviewed me wanted diversity. Or secretly hated me. Or noticed the small hole in my khakis. In our world, it could be anything.
Which means I once again had to turn to TGI Friday's. I probably didn't have to, but I did, especially considering I just went in to pick up food and was asked when I was coming back to work. Why not, right? I think I find out later today, or tomorrow. I might even get the great opportunity to be a server, provided I don't flip my lid one night and toss wasabi ranch (perfect for green bean fries!) into an unruly customer's face. Not that that would ever happen.
April 28th: My Own Personal Meltdown
Category: Life
11 days.
It's going to be hell, but I have 11 more days at the University of Virginia. And the closer I get to home, the less I feel I'm going to miss. It's probably the crappy, rainy weather right now, and it's definitely the paper due tomorrow I've barely started and the paper due Friday I don't have a topic for and etc.
But I'm definitely ready to leave.
So I'm sure I'll end up the way I always do during paper time. Like yesterday, where 4 solid hours of reading and work was followed by like 8 hours of absolutely nothing. That was swell. Or today, where I've been up for 2 hours already and have only had coffee and watched Matt Lauer in Buenos Aires (sorry, spoiler alert).
I want it to go fast, but I also need A's. I have worked tremendously hard this semester, doing the readings, (and in poetry, trying to understand them), filling the awkward silences after the professor asks a question in discussion, and actually coming to class when it was the last thing I wanted to do. So my work should reflect that. Will it? We're about to find out.
Also, two links you may enjoy:
Brozilla, my new film. But I'm sure you're sick of that already.
and the bomb.com,
200 Hastily-Drawn Comics. Numbers 30, 63 (note: ESPECIALLY 63), 100, 140, and 182 are my favorites.
I've spent all afternoon looking for episodes of Doug on Youtube.
It makes me sad that future generations will never experience the goofy-ass magic this show brought with it. The amazing shee-boop-boop-bah-bah music, the endless debate over what ethnicity Skeeter (or any of the characters, for that matter) was, Mr. Dink prefacing all of his inventions with "(very expensive!)," Judy being a total beatnik, Roger being the gingerest ginger with family problems and thus his bully status, Mr. Bone (and his nephew Percy Femur!) threatening to put something on someone's "PERMANENT RECORD!!", Porkchop living in an igloo, the Honker Burger, Chalky Studebaker arrogant jock, the waaah-oooh-waaaaaah music when Doug would make contact with Patty Mayonnaise, and of course The Beets.
It pains me that this show hasn't been released on DVD due to copyright issues. It also pains me that Disney picked it up and totally ruined it, but that's a different story.
When you think about it, the show was totally Scrubs' predecessor: a goofy main character with an inner monologue and wacky fantasies. THAT'S why I still love it!
I find out if I get into the University of Florida tomorrow. As I've said, I'm not completely nervous because I'm transferring with a 3.6 from US News' number 2 public school in the nation (believe me that's not bragging, get me outta here). But the Admissions website decided to add this ominous message a few days ago: Due to budget constraints, UF will admit one-third fewer transfer students. Decisions will be available beginning April 15th. Yowza. Fingers crossed, you guys. It's funny because I've done all this big boy stuff like signed the lease to my apartment (with a contingency clause) and told people I'm transferring to UF and yet I haven't even officialy been admitted. I guess I just want my life to change right now.
Binges! I went on an Amazon binge, as I so often do. On my way late this week (hopefully) are the two-disc DVD of Juno, the single-disc of There Will Be Blood (even though the double-disc had cooler artwork, reviews of the special features said they weren't worth the extra money), The Complete Poetry of A.R. Ammons, and Chuck Klosterman's IV: A Decade of Curious People and Dangerous Ideas. I can't wait to devour.
Crystal Castles is the best group you've never heard of. I'm finding myself digging electronic music more and more, but when it sounds like this I understand why. It sounds like a cyborg army battling a video game, with a 1985 personal computer acting as guest referee. Give their tracks a listen, including "Alice Practice," which is my profile song.
I'd be remiss if I didn't plug MY FIRST FILM, a spur of the moment decision to film a late-night run for some pizza on Saturday night. The result, after consuming the pizza, sleeping for almost a few hours, and editing for four hours, is The Voyage to Christian's Pizza. I'm quite proud of the film and the experience as a whole, and now I'm deciding whether I should let it stand as my legacy or plan my next film. Probably the latter, in which I inevitably hit the sophomore slump. Worth it.
Finally, I thought I'd plug the other blogs/procrastination tools I occupy myself with (hahahaha suck it grammar nazis).
The Sartorialist: I'm not fashionable in the least. But I like to pretend I am. That's why I read GQ and Esquire every month. I feel like one day, Matt in his $1500 suit (I'm a cheapskate, what can I say) and skinny tie and penny loafers will grace the pages of The Sartorialist, New York City's finest fashion something or other. For now, though, Converses and t-shirts plz.
Amanda the Aspiring: We all love success stories. I love success stories that involve people rising to the top of the TV world and providing insight along the way. That's why Amanda is awesome. As a freshly-minted college-grad, she traveled across the country to achieve her dream of becoming a TV writer, starting at the very bottom in the mailroom of a mid-size agency. Considering I'll be in her position in 3 years, it's like she's tenderly stepping on the minefield for me. I love it.
Aquarium Drunkard: I do love free mp3's. But this website is so much more than that (even though, if you act now, you can get at least 20 Neil Young mp3's at the moment). Live reviews, podcasts, interesting opinion pieces. I've been visiting consistently for over a year now, and nothing's gonna change my world, uh!
Oh boy! We are almost exactly one month away from leaving UVA forever. I’m using the royal "we" here because I know you all live vicariously through me. We’re in this together, folks. You’re Private Jokers and I’m Gomer Pyle and you’re just dragging me along in your lives. You’d think it’d be the other way around, right? Don’t beat me with bars of soap in towels plz.
Full Metal Jacket reference, I apologize, I had to watch it for class.
I also watched Magnolia again last night, and even though I more closely realized how arty and excessive it is, I still effing love it so much. And the ending is one of my favorites of all time. Breaking the fourth wall is only effective when it doesn’t happen very often. And this was perfect timing. Aimee Mann’s voice swells, Jim finishes his lovely speech to Claudia (which is mostly masked by the song, but it’s not really the words that matter, because...), she looks down, up at the camera, SMILES. This might be the greatest smile in the history of cinema, you guys. One of the most depressing, washed-out characters experiences a true moment of happiness. Yes, both characters are fucked up in their respective ways, but they’re perfect for each other, and that’s all that matters.
I recently discovered that the music store on The Corner sells vinyl. As much as I love that there’s been a vinyl resurgence of sorts, I wasn’t really sure why. I mean, you can’t have the songs on your iPod without double-dipping, right? Well, I found out that’s not the case. A lot of new vinyls feature a code to enter online, giving you mp3s of the songs you just purchased. Convenient! Except when it doesn’t work. I got Belle and Sebastian’s first album Tigermilk, entered the code online...and was accused of being invalid. Boooo! This is why people switched to cassette tapes.
I also bought classic hipster staples Spiderland by Slint and In the Aeroplane Over the Sea by Neutral Milk Hotel. Of course, all of these albums must wait another month until I return to Barry Lyndon (my record player).
My appreciation of poetry deepens as I read Jimmy Santiago Baca this week. His imagery mixes the beautiful and the all too real, family life to barrio life, blood and dirt and sunlight and morning coffee.
And finally: I was a little heartbroken when Ryan Adams said he was abandoning his blog to work on recording his new album. I mean, excited that his new album Magick was indeed coming to fruition, but disappointed that I wouldn’t be able to see more of his hilarious and wacky ramblings and thoughts. But, surprise! I woke up to find a zillion new posts posted by "his computer," under the moniker FG1-GY. Amazing. Example:
The man who types on me has system compatibility problems. He has trouble connecting to other computers. He overloaded his software or runs his system to long. If I were in control of the situation I would require less software and an extra fan for the motor. But what do I know?
I am a computer and probably shouldn’t be blogging at all. Perhaps I will discover the delete option in this program. The man does that.
He is most of the time sad but also he is excited and curious, although his human replica hero’s are narcissists which is ironic because "The Man Who Types Very Hard" is self-conscious, shy, constantly irritable due to self imposed deadlines and creating things as such a constant rate one would imagine he has issues with time/space and eventual and inevitable system loss. Or what do you call that? Passing.
I can promise you I will not become my computer. Yet.
My goal this summer is to learn an instrument. I know everyone says that, and I know most of the time these attempts are just little fads that end before August. But honestly, I was listening to something (I use "something" to be vague but you all know I was probably listening to The Cardinals) and it just hit me. I love music so much at this point that it just frustrates me knowing I can’t do any of the things I love so much. Plus, I’m in desperate need of a new hobby. Or a hobby in general, I’m pretty sure I don’t have any hobbies right now.
So, what to learn? I’m heavy into percussion right now but uh, I’m pretty sure a drum kit is waaayyyy out of my price range. Piano. Yes I have a piano at home already so that would make sense, the problem is it’s not exactly transportable. And keyboards never sound the same. Guitar. I’m thinking this is the way. Learn on an acoustic and maybe, just maybe splurge a little on an electric or a bass eventually. This is far into the future I’m sure, this talk of splurging, but it’s fun. And for fun I looked up prices of pedal-steel guitars and laughed and laughed when I didn’t see a single one under $1000. Ah well. Anyway, suggestions of where to start guitar-wise would be terrific.
Ryan Adams live mp3 of the day comes from Charlottesville, where he played "Dear Chicago." An absolutely beautiful song about, surprise!, heartbreak and moving on. Finding someone new. When they performed it I had actually never heard the song. Now that I’ve heard the studio version, I usually prefer the live arrangement because it has more of a sense of motion to it. And the addition of "Without you" after the first verse is so nice.
Download it here. There’s also like 2 minutes of stage banter after the song but I can’t really control that.
p.s. Martin Scorsese update: he did indeed friend me. And his friend update "Martin Scorsese is happy Shine a Light is in theaters; mood: accomplished " cracks me up. It’s just so surreal.
Knut!! I just recently discovered this adorable wittle bear.
Except he’s not wittle anymore and now he’s, well, bi-polar. Ahahahaha. But we still have the memories of cute Knut.
In five weeks I’ll be leaving Charlottesville (probably) forever. Outside of the off-chance of a reaaaaally good concert (Adams, Ryan) or visiting people, the chances of my coming back are slim. And I’m totally fine with that. For some reason, USA Today voted Charlottesville the 1 place to live in America a few years ago. And I still have no idea why.
It’s a nice place. It’s a college town, but it’s not huge and sprawling. The University’s architecture is gorgeous, of course, and the people are friendly enough (except w/r/t crosswalks). There’s a lot to do if you’re an outdoorsy person. But best place in America? I will just say that Charlottesville does a damn good job of covering up its crime rate. Up until recently you couldn’t open the school’s newspaper without a frontpage headline of another mugging or attempted rape or something right outside of the "school zone." See, there is a very distinct line between the affluent and the very, very poor, and it just so happens that crimes occur all over and around that line all the time. Fortunately I usually don’t have to venture around that area. Nor will I have to again.
Naples. You know, a lot of people rage against the Naples machine and hate it with extreme vitriol and never want to go back. And I understand where they’re coming from. But to me, Naples is home. It probably always will be. And after four months away I certainly do miss it, the degree to which the traffic frustrates me notwithstanding.
The funny thing is, when you read about most hometown memories they’re all about the cute mom-and-pop localities that make that place distinct. The bench at the Tastee-Freeze that people shared their first kisses on. The barista at the local coffee shop who always brightened the morning. Riding bikes down main street amidst shoppers and elderly. Naples doesn’t really have that. It’s so utterly commercial and mainstream and conservative. Hell, there was just a major outcry over the implementation of a "Bad Ass Coffee Co." in town.
But Naples does have gorgeous beaches, my doggies (soon to be doggie, I’m afraid), long drives at night with no particular destination, my high school, my record player, serene afternoons poolside while everyone is away at work, Waffle House for any time of the day, and window-shopping at the various and sundry expensive shops because they don’t sell to my type. And the elderly population is actually useful when they all go to bed by 8pm and the night streets are free.
That’s not exactly a poetic memoir whatsoever. But it’s home to me, it’s what I remember, and what I miss. On the surface I might get sick of it within three weeks, but deep down I’ll be so glad to be home.
" cracks me up. It’s just so surreal.
